


Grand Theft Autumn

by cherryvanilla



Category: Bandom, The Used
Genre: Hooker AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-21
Updated: 2010-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-13 07:36:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/134685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You were the last good thing about this part of town." Originally written: September 2005.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grand Theft Autumn

Bert and Quinn are grinding against the brick wall of their usual alleyway; their kisses escalating quickly just like everything else between them, when Branden walks up.

“Hey, *faggots*!”

They jump apart and Branden has to grin.

“Jesus *fuck* Branden, don’t DO that shit!” Bert huffs, attempting to murder Branden with eyes. Quinn’s gotten over it already and is shyly tugging on Bert’s shirt and angling his neck. Bert indulges him for a few seconds until they see the headlights of a car. Breaking away Bert walks over while Quinn just hangs back, bending one leg against the wall. Bert turns and meets Quinn’s eyes for a beat. Then he blows a kiss and gets in.

Branden lounges beside Quinn, who is pretending he’s not searching for a shadow of the long gone car.

“How do you do it?” Branden asks.

“What?”

“How do you just – watch him go off with other guys?”

“I’m not exactly an innocent here. We all got a job to do,” Quinn snaps.

“I know, I just – “

“Jesus, Branden, you’re like that ridiculous movie – hooker with a heart of gold and shit. Fucking Bert alone won’t help me survive, okay?”

Branden watches as he walks off to the end of the corner. A few minutes later, he gets in a car.

* * * * * *

Branden has a few regulars. Mostly fat, older men who like to pull his hair or hold his ears while he’s going down on them. It takes a lot of effort not to gag around their cocks or throw up but he’s a professional and is supposed to be able to handle this stuff. Every so often, he’ll get a young guy, not too bad looking. Those times, it’s easier to pretend he isn’t being paid. Still, he rarely enjoys it. It’s how they touch him, the word ‘whore’ etched into every stroke.

The cool October wind makes him shiver and pull tighter on his jacket. He used to love the fall when he was a kid. It made him think of Halloween and pumpkins and playing in multi-colored leaves. Now it’s just one step closer to winter, and another year of surviving without freezing to death.

He’s just about given up for the night when he spots movement out of the corner of his eye. A guy is standing there – young, probably mid-twenties, in dress pants, white button-up shirt and a jacket. He averts his eyes when he realizes he’s been caught.

Branden grins and sunders up to him.

“Hey.”

“Uh, hey.”

Branden grins a little more, cocking his hip in the guy’s direction. He doesn’t like approaching them. Usually just stands against the wall waiting for them to tell him what they want.

“You looking for something?”

“Just, uh, was at a club. Going back to my car.”

Branden ‘hmm’s’, noncommittally. “What’s your name?”

“Jepha. Jeph.”

“Well, Jepha Jeph,” he leans in close and purrs, “want me to suck your cock?”

He feels the other man tense, hopefully in excitement.

“Um. What’s your name?”

He could say a million inane things, such as ‘whatever you want,’ or ‘pay me and find out’ but for some reason the truth leaves his lips before he can stop it.

“Branden,” Jeph repeats, lingering on the word. “Can we go back to my hotel?”

They usually don’t say that. Most of the time, it’s a quickie in a car or some dark alley.

“150 for the night, man.”

“Okay.”

He gets in Jeph’s BMW and tries not to sigh and relax into the leather seats. He always keeps on his game. Jeph’s staying at the Hilton and, unlike the few johns that have brought him to a hotel, doesn’t care that they walk in together, the stares and raised eyebrows unmistakable.

They don’t touch on the way up to the room. Once inside, Jeph heads straight to the bar and pours a drink. “Want one?”

“No, I’m cool.”

Jeph downs the glass and walks toward Branden, who shrugs out of his demin jacket and throws his hat on the floor.

Branden steps up to him, and runs his hands up and down Jeph’s shirt, slowly. It’s surprisingly easy tonight. This guy has kind eyes and nervous energy radiating off him like mad.

“What do you want?”

Jepha looks at him, eyes dark now and leans forward, pressing their lips together. Branden almost rears back but Jeph holds him still. He struggles for a moment, but it’s half-hearted since Jeph is planting teasing kisses over his bottom lip, pulling it between his own, no teeth, just soft suction at a maddening pace. Branden leans into the touch, wrapping his arms around Jeph and walking them backwards. Breaking away, he licks up the side of Jeph’s neck , then pushes him down. He starts to unbutton his jeans, eyeing the other man, putting on the show of waggling hips and sultry glances that he’s paid for, when Jeph stops his hands and pulls him down onto the bed. They lay on their sides, Branden still trying to comprehend what just happened. Jeph begins kissing him again and it’s hot and gentle and *slow*. Branden moans into the kiss, frustration turning into real desire when Jeph’s tongue begins fucking his mouth while his hands run over Branden’s ass, not pawing roughly in the way he’s used to, but – savoring, wanting.

He needs to take control of the situation. Breaking away he bites at Jeph’s lips. “You want my mouth?” his voice is too hoarse. Jeph moans and Branden decides it’s time to do what he’s paid for (which *isn’t* making out, thank you very much.) He unbuttons Jeph’s shirt and slides his hands down his chest, then follows with his tongue. He feels Jeph’s stomach quiver under his mouth. Reaching his crotch, he licks the hard dick through the dress pants, mouthing it for a few seconds while Jeph makes breathy moans that get Branden’s dick harder than they have any right to. Branden pulls the zipper down his teeth and parts the fabric, loving how *clean* Jeph smells. Branden bets he showers with fancy scented soap and takes long baths and has never had to wear the same outfit twice in a week. Suddenly angry, he takes Jeph’s cock in his mouth, sucking him hard and fast, cheeks hollowed and tongue flickering at lightening speed from tip to base, showing him how it’s done, reminding him who he’s here with and hating him a little for making Branden forget it.

Jeph breathes his name like a prayer. They never say his name. They say ‘good little whore’ or ‘fuck my mouth, pretty boy’ or some other innocuous cliché shit they must get from watching one too many pornos.

“Branden. Oh god, yes, Branden.”

Branden’s eyes water a little and he blames it on the lack of oxygen. He works Jeph harder, rolling his balls in his hand until he feels them tighten under his fingers. Then he swallows every drop and pulls off, gasping a little and wiping at his mouth. Jeph’s eyes are closed and he’s breathing heavy.

“Come up here,” he says, voice breathless. Reaching blindly, Jeph latches onto Branden's shoulder, pulling him onto his body and kissing lazily. Branden’s dick is still hard, now pressing firmly against Jeph’s thigh and he leans into the friction absently.

“Let me touch you,” Jeph murmurs against his lips, one hand trailing down to the front of his jeans, about to ease the zipper down. The soft voice is what does it.

Branden pulls away and runs a hand through his hair. “Just remembered I’ve got another appointment.”

“Oh,” Jeph says, voice nonchalant but eyes full of suspicion.

Branden gets off the bed and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Yeah, so.”

Jeph gets up as well, pulling up his pants and moving to the other side of the room.

“You can, like, give me half or whatever. Since it’s not the whole night.” He may be a hooker, but he really isn’t a cheat.

Jeph doesn’t turn around. After a few seconds, he hands Branden an envelope, which he shoves into his pocket.

“Listen, can –“

No, Branden thinks. “I gotta go. See ya,” and flees.

He walks back to the ally, trying not to think of Jeph’s lips or eyes or hands and curses himself for acting like some silly faggot with a first crush. That isn’t his life. It isn’t until he’s half way there that he looks in the envelope and discovers Jeph paid him the full $150.

When he gets to the alleyway, he finds Bert and Quinn sitting up against the brick wall on the folded up futon they found in a dumpster a few days ago. Quinn is curled into Bert’s arms, face pressed into his neck. Branden can see the faint glimmer of tears.

Bert lifts his head and meets Branden’s eyes, hand continuing to stroke Quinn’s hair. “He had a rough night,” Bert explains, voice hoarse. Branden nods, eyes flashing with anger. Looking at Bert, he sees the same emotion, but magnified ten times over.

“I want to fucking kill him,” Bert admits, voice barely audible. Branden knows he would, too. Bert loves Quinn with fierce intensity that Branden often envies. He wonders what it’d be like to feel that, and have it directed at him.

“I had a good night. We can get a cheap motel room, if you want.”

Bert nods absently, pulling Quinn closer and holding him tighter. “I love you.”

He hears Quinn’s answering murmur and has to look away, anger, sadness and jealousy coursing through him at the exchange; the former two greater than the latter. He wants them to make it – they deserve it.

As they head off to find a room, Branden reminds himself *this* is the reality. And there’s nothing remotely romantic about it.

* * * * *

Quinn and Bert spend most of the next day curled around each other, in and out of sleep. Branden would normally bug them to get off their asses and pull their weight, used to be the father of the group, but he knew they both needed this. He leaves them around 8pm, sleeping so intertwined that Branden can’t tell where one body ended and the other began. He left a note for Bert to check out by 12 noon the next day if for some reason he wasn’t back.

It’s around 10pm when he wanders back to the alley after his latest pickup. He stops short when he sees the dark figure waiting for him.

“What do you want?”

Jepha stepped forward out of the shadows and Branden could see his face fully, taking in the anxious expression, but also noting the determination beneath it.

“I was wondering if I could take you out somewhere.”

Branden’s mouth falls open in disbelief. “You serious? Listen, I don’t know how they do things in L.A. but you can’t *date* me, okay? This isn’t Pretty Woman, alright? If anything, it’s -- My Own Private Idaho.”

“Only in Utah,” Jeph says dryly. It stops his tirade, and Branden has to stop himself from laughing.

“You’re a dick,” he says without malice, mouth quirking up.

“Whatever you say, River.”

He gives into the temptation.

“Holy shit, he can laugh!” Jeph exclaims, voice loud and boisterous, finger pointing at Branden in delight.

Branden glares. “Don’t push it.”

Jeph ignores him. “How’d you know I was from L.A.?”

Branden snorts. “Where else would you be from?”

Jeph shrugs. “New York?”

“Nah, you ain’t hard enough for New York. You reek of Sunset Boulevard or some shit like that.”

“Hmm.”

They stand in silence for a few moments, and Branden finds himself wanting to kiss Jeph again, press their bodies together.

“ – dinner?”

“Huh? What?”

“I said, can I take you out to dinner?”

“Look, I already told you, I’m not your date. I’ll blow you again, how about that?”

“How about I pay you for the night, take you to dinner and *then* we fuck?”

“You’re crazy.”

Jeph steps closer, their bodies a breath apart. “It’s my choice how we spend our time. Isn’t it?”

Branden shrugs, looking down at his feet.

Jeph tilts his chin up gently. “So, what do you say?”

Branden sighs, unable to suppress the shiver the touch generates and knowing he’ll never win.

“Lead the way.”

He can feel Jeph’s grin the whole way to the car.

They make idle chatter about music and movies and it throws Branden for a little while. It’s been so long since he’s actually talked to someone who wasn’t Bert or Quinn. They park and Jeph walks them up to a small Vegetarian place.

Standing online, he says, “I hope this is alright.”

“It’s fine. Um. I’m actually a vegetarian.”

Jeph looks pleasantly surprised. “I just thought you’d like this place for some reason.”

“I do. Been a few times.”

They order and sit with their food before talking again.

“So, always a veggie, then?” Jeph asks.

Branden shrugs, taking a bite of his hummus sandwich. “Since I was 11 or so. It certainly doesn’t help. I mean, you don’t find too many leftover veggie burgers lying in trash cans.”

Jeph masks the look that crossed his face a second too late.

“Don’t,” Branden whispers, voice cold. “Just don’t.”

“Sorry.”

“I don’t need that pity shit from you, okay?”

Jeph nods.

They bond over their similar diets for a few minutes, until Branden notices someone over Jeph’s shoulder. The man is eying him, calling him over with a stare and the barest hint of fingers in a come-hither motion. He’s older, white hair, well groomed. Jeph must notice cause he turns in the direction Branden’s staring, and looks back with a question in his eyes.

“Be right back.”

When he reaches the man, they exchange quiet whispers about prices and agree to meet outside tomorrow night.

Returning to the table, the air around Jeph is considerably different. Branden’s surprised when he sees the unhappy look on his face.

“Who was that?”

“Just a future customer.”

“For when?”

“Tomorrow night.”

Jeph stares at him hard.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Branden scoffs. “You’re jealous!”

Jeph blushes faintly.

Branden throws down his napkin, disgusted. “Jesus Christ. I’m not your fucking boyfriend. I’m a whore. That’s it.”

“Why is it so important for you to remember that?”

“Why’s it so important for you to forget it?!” Branden shoots back.

Jeph ignores him. “Have I treated you like a whore?” Branden raises an eyebrow at him. “No – I mean, okay, aside from the money. Have I?”

Branden looks down at the table and shakes his head.

“Then can you forget it for a little while?”

Branden stares stubbornly at the table. This isn’t how it goes. But he’s also being handed something he’s always wanted.

He looks up and nods slightly.

“I’m here for a few days and I want to see you. Tell him you’re busy?” It’s an almost desperate request and Branden can’t refuse. When he returns, the smile Jeph gives him is blinding.

“I really don’t understand you.”

Jeph just smiles more. Branden wants to ask so many things: why me? What do you think this is? Why are you acting like you want more than sex? Instead, he says nothing and finishes his sandwich. They talk some more. Mostly Jeph, telling him tidbits about his life, as if Branden’s supposed to care. Except he does for some reason, and likes listening to him. After a little while, the conversation becomes comfortable and Branden finds himself laughing loudly, enjoying himself. After one particularly long giggle-fest, they break off, staring at one another and Branden feels desire course through him. They lock eyes. “You wanna get out of here?” Jeph murmurs.

Branden nods and they make it as far as the alley next to the café before Jeph pulls him in close, taking his lips in a desperate kiss. Branden moans quietly and follows, body surging forward. They thrust together, Jeph’s hands pinning his arms at the wrists. He feels completely out of control, and loves it. Jeph breaks away after licking a wet line up his throat. “Hotel.. let’s..”

Branden nods, not trusting his voice. The car ride is a blur, filled with teasing touches and soft moans whenever Jeph’s hand wanders further up his thigh.

The tension is heavy between them on the ride up to the room. Three people share the elevator and all give him the dirtiest of stares. He’s learned by now to ignore it. Still, he’s unprepared for the surprise of Jeph taking his hand as they walk out, turning to pointedly glare hard at one of the ladies. Branden tells his stomach to stop flipping and pulls away from Jeph’s hand when the doors shut. They make it to the room and he slams Jeph against the door.

Bruising kisses, wild hands, and the feel of their bodies pressed together makes Branden feel in and out of control, not caring, just needing. “What do you want?” he groans, nipping at Jeph’s lower lip.

“Wanna fuck you.”

Branden figured that. They always want to. Difference is, this time he does as well.

* * * *

It’s times like this Branden wishes he smoked. He’s probably the worst hooker ever, having been straight-edge all his life, not even smoking or drinking, much less drugs. He’s seen drugs nearly destroy Bert and Quinn a few years back and he’d never do that shit, no matter how hard it got sometimes. They’d found a good free walk-in clinic and the others have been good ever since, with the occasional slip-up. Now, though, lying next to Jepha, naked, watching the other man sleep, his palms itch and heart races and he longs for a drag, anything to occupy himself.

The fuck had been awful and amazing at once. Jepha pushing him down on the bed, covering him with kisses, sliding down his body to lick at his cock, causing Branden to break apart in his mouth. Then he fucked him, “face to face,” he insisted and Branden tried hard not to look at him, but he was hypnotic, completely lost in the sensations, in *Branden* and all he could do was arch and moan and give a strangled cry when Jeph hitched his leg a little higher, kissed him a little deeper. Then he passed out after pressing a sated kiss into Branden’s shoulder. Normally, he’d have been long gone by now. But he promised Jeph he’d forget for a while. And although he’s failing miserably, Jeph needn’t know that.

He feels stirring beside him and looks down into Jeph’s sleep-heavy eyes. “Mmm. Sorry. You sleep at all?”

“Nah. Don’t usually like to when I’m with---” he breaks off, “Just. Habit.”

Jeph nods against his shoulder, large fingers tracing patterns on Branden’s arm. “I’ve never done this, you know.”

Branden’s first thought is, ‘I guess we’re talking about it now.’ His second is, ‘wait, what?’

“You’re shitting me.”

Jeph licks lazily at his shoulder. “Nope.”

“With all the hookers in L.A., you’ve never done this,” he stares at him hard, disbelief on every syllable. “Why?”

Jeph’s mouth is on a determined journey up Branden’s neck. “Just.. never did. I was in a relationship for a while. Didn’t work out and haven’t really been.. interested. In anything.”

For about the millionth time since yesterday Branden wants to say, “why me?” He’s not used to this intense desire for answers, this ridiculous tease dangling in front of him, of all the things he could have had and everything he’ll lose once Jeph leaves.

Instead, he opts for humor. “Well, you certainly picked the cream of the crop. L.A. ain’t got nothin’ on us Orem folk.”

Jeph laughs and nips at his ear. They kiss for a while, which leads to some serious making out and a handjob, before Branden starts to get up and pull his clothes on.

“I should get going.” It’s 4am and he wants to check on Bert and Quinn. A shower would be nice, too. He’s sure Jeph would let him, but he so rarely gets to shower somewhere he’s actually paying for. It makes him feel less bought. He’s also looking forward to just sitting in the motel and hanging with Bert and Quinn. It’s times like those when he feels like they’re just three friends in a parent’s basement again.

“I can see you tonight, right?”

Branden walks over to him, and kisses him long and hard. “If you can find me.” He shoves the envelope in his pocket and walks out.

* * * * *

Jeph does. On a different corner around 8:30. He pulls up with a shit-eating grin on his face, and Branden doesn’t know if he wants to slap him or kiss him.

“Hey hot stuff,” he calls from the window. Branden rolls his eyes and pushes away from the wall, trying to fight off a persistent grin. This guy is such a dork.

Jeph takes him bowling.

“If this is some sorta foreplay,” Branden says as Jeph is picking out a ball, “I gotta say I’m pretty much a sure thing.”

“Shut up and bowl, asshole.” His smile should not make Branden so – giddy. He obeys, strutting up to the lane and shaking his ass. Jeph wins – barely.

They make out in the car, wet and sloppy and Branden feels younger than he ever has. Jeph’s fingers edge under fabric of his shirt, palming his stomach and causing his breath to hitch. It’s the little touches that get him, the way Jeph will pay attention to the sensitive spot behind his ear, or curve his fingers into the small of his back. He sucks on Jeph’s tongue, pulling it in deep, enjoying the noises in response. “We can do it here, you know,” Branden pants when Jeph cups his dick, rubbing slowly. “Save you some money.”

Jeph’s teeth sink into his lower lip, sharp and quick. “You’re worth it.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just arches his hips forward. It isn’t his money. Well, not yet, anyway.

He barely endures the torturous drive to the hotel, but the ease of their conversation helps. He really loves talking to Jeph, especially about music. They have a lot in common, and even though it’s been years since Branden’s actually bought a CD, he can keep up on the times thanks to the beauty of store listening stations.

The lady at the desk barely spares them a glance this time, and Branden thinks of it as some sort of acceptance.

They blow one another on the bed, Branden’s leg pressed against Jeph’s chest as he slowly takes him in. Jeph matches his rhythm and Branden moans at the feel of his tongue swirling the head, of his short nails digging into the juncture of his thigh and groin. He loves the feel of Jeph’s lips stretching around his cock, nestling it against the inside of his mouth as if it’s found its home there. It causes him to suck harder, thrust faster. Afterwards, they shower together and he loses himself in the feel of Jeph’s fingers in his hair, tugging on the wet strands to pulling him in for a kiss.

When he leaves, he almost forgets to take the money.

* * * *

The next day there’s a bounce to his step, and naturally, the others notice.

“How’s your sugar daddy, Brand?” Bert teases, making kissy faces.

Branden shoves him, they all laugh, and the topic changes. Later on, however, when Jeph pulls up around four in the afternoon (something utterly ridiculous to do yet it still makes Branden’s heart jump) Quinn takes him aside.

“Hey.. you’re not falling for this guy, are you?”

“What? No!”

“I just.. I don’t wanna see you get hurt.”

He looks over at Jeph, who’s smiling, bright and infectious as always.

“He’s just a trick,” he sighs. If his voice sounded a bit too disappointed, Quinn doesn’t say anything.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Branden says when he gets in.

“Oh, right. I forgot. You’re nocturnal.”

Branden slaps his arm and turns up the radio, finding it harder to fight with him the more he gets to know him.

Jeph takes him to a record store in Springville, a small one that still has the old fashion listening booths. It’s been so long since he’s been out of Orem he’s almost forgotten other places exist.

“My dad used to take me to a place like this,” Jeph says as they sit in the booth.

“My dad killed himself when I was 11.” The words leave his mouth before he could stop them and he wonders why he doesn’t care. He feels Jeph’s hand on his wrist, thumb tracing the inside. He looks up and stares as Jeff Buckley starts crooning.

“This is a great cover,” Jeph murmurs.

“It’s beautiful,” he says, not looking away.

“We used to have a band,” Branden admits later, as they’re lying in Jeph’s bed, his back to Jeph’s chest. It’s a position he usually hates. It makes him feel small and vulnerable. He’s already learned things he ‘usually hates’ don’t seem to apply when it comes to Jeph.

Jeph’s arms tighten around him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, for a while. Until our guitar player went to jail and Bert and Quinn got caught fucking and kicked out of their houses and I. Well. I was already on the streets by then. But Quinn had drums in his basement so we’d meet there and. Well. When everything went to hell, so did the drums.”

“How come you didn’t tell me before?”

“Doesn’t matter anymore, does it?”

Jeph makes a noncommittal noise. “Would’ve loved to hear you.”

Branden laughs. “Bert’s a fuckin’ insane singer.” He pauses. “I think Quinn still has a demo. He’s sentimental about shit like that.”

“I’d love to listen.”

They’re silent for a few moments, and Branden could fall asleep like this. “When did you start playing drums?”

“When I was 11.”

Jeph pulls him closer. “Oh so. After..”

Branden squeezes his eyes shut, trying to trap the emotions like a vice. “Yeah. He used to play. Just – a way to be closer to him, I guess.”

“When did…”

He doesn’t need to hear the question. He’s heard it before. But it’s always been, “how’d a pretty thing like you get to be such a good whore?” or something to that affect; never a hesitant inquiry, as if hearing the answer might be as painful as Branden saying it. Which is of course ridiculous.

“My mom couldn’t handle it. She OD’d when I was 15. I was placed in a foster home. It was hell. Ran away when I was 16. You know the rest.”

Thankfully, Jeph doesn’t apologize. Instead, he rolls on top of Branden, holding his face firmly and kissing him, teasing, closed-mouthed kisses until Branden growls in frustration, pushing his tongue between Jeph’s lips.

“You’re so strong,” Jeph breathes as he breaks away. Branden just pulls him closer.

Jeph drops him off at the corner later that night. Bert and Quinn aren’t in sight.

“I wish you’d just stay the night,” Jeph says, annoyed.

“I don’t like leaving them. Hang on.” He jumps out and digs behind the dumpster, feeling for Quinn’s backpack. He returns a few seconds later, pressing an object into Jeph’s hand. “There.”

Jeph flips the cassette around a few times, and smiles, before reaching into his wallet. He presses the money into Branden’s palm, squeezing tightly. “Don’t argue, just stay someplace for a few days alright? It’s getting cold.”

He pulls away before Branden can question it. When he looks down, he notices Jeph’s given him 300 extra. Filled with anger, frustration, and no small amount of affection he slams his fist into the dumpster. Slumping down on the futon, he waits for Bert and Quinn to return.

* * * *

They get a semi-nicer room this time, only because Branden isn’t about to blow money on a place to stay. Bert and Quinn have fun watching TV and wrestling together on the bed. He really loves seeing them happy. That night it’s just he and Quinn on the corner when Jeph picks him up, Bert having scored already.

They order room service and afterwards he fucks Jeph for the first time, sliding into his body, curved around his back, while his hand moves shakily on Jeph’s cock. Jeph is breakable beneath him, completely undone and gasping Branden’s name in time with his thrusts. Branden kisses the back of his neck, rhythm faltering as he comes with cry, screaming Jeph’s name.

Jeph comes in his hand and wiggles out from under him, pulling Branden against him and kissing him until he has to gasp for air. Branden rests against his chest, enjoying the feel of Jeph’s hands stroking up and down his back.

“I listened to the demo.”

Branden yawns. “And?”

“And how would you feel about going to L.A.?”

Branden stiffens and struggles out of the embrace. He sits up and faces Jeph. “What are you talking about?”

Jeph sighs, propping himself up against the headboard. “I was here scoping out some local talent, you knew that. Well, you guys are better than anything I’ve seen this week.”

Branden shakes his head, mostly to himself. “We – we haven’t played in *years*, Jepha. We don’t even have a bassist!”

“There’s a great bassist stuck in a mediocre band out here. He could play with you guys. And as for not playing in years – you all have natural talent. I’ve been doing this long enough to know that.”

“This is – ridiculous.”

“I want to sign you guys, Branden. Come to L.A.”

“You’re insane,” Branden gets up, heart thumping in his chest as he starts to pull on his clothes.

“What the hell is it gonna take to make you realize there’s more than this?”

“Stop trying to fucking save me, and where the hell is my sock?”

Jeph’s standing in front of him now, as Branden crawls on the floor, searching under the bed.

“Branden, look at me.”

“Fuck the socks. I’m leaving.”

Jeph grabs hold of his arm. “*Look* at me.”

Branden does, reluctantly. The open affection almost makes me look away again. Jeph pulls at the short strands of hair at the base of Branden’s neck, tugging him closer. “I care about you, okay? And I’m leaving tomorrow. Come with me.” Their lips are painfully close and it’d be so easy to lean in, to accept and fall for this man with his 500-watt smile and gorgeous eyes and wicked sense of humor. But his life has never been easy.

“No.”

He storms out, shoes in his hand. He doesn’t put them on until he’s a block away, lest Jeph tries to follow him. He walks back to the motel, wondering why it’s so hard to accept this, to think there could be something more. He’s always been about being practical. He tried getting jobs before hooking. The only places that would hire him were greasy chain restaurants that barely paid minimum wage. He worked every day, sleeping on the streets and spending the money on food the occasional new pair of clothes until some guy pulled up in a car and held out a 50. It was more than he’d make in an eight-hour day, so he went and hated himself afterwards, but knew this was it. Meeting Bert and Quinn had taken the sting out of his job for a bit, and he’d felt as young as they were for a while, until they joined him, innocence lost and two more mouths to feed. This is what it was. How can Jepha ever promise anything else?

He’s distracted as he opens to motel room door, until he looks up and catches sight of the room. It’s trashed, TV knocked over, blankets thrown everywhere, and lamps smashed as Bert paces like an animal in a cage.

When he sees Branden, he runs forward. “Oh god, where the fuck have you been, I. He.”

He grabs Bert by the shoulders. “What? What the hell happened?”

“Quinn! They fucking picked him up! He. I was coming back, and I saw cops there and they had him against the hood. Fuck, Branden, I didn’t know what to do! What if they picked me up too and then we’d be totally fucked. So I fucking left him there! And then he called a little while ago and they’re fucking holding him and he sounds awful and he said they strip searched him and called him a fag and – FUCK!”

Bert’s eyes are watery and crazed. Branden pulls him into a tight hug.

“What are we gonna do?” he whispers, choked and broken.

It’s then he realizes this can’t go on. Maybe he’s never believed there could be something more, but that doesn’t mean Bert and Quinn have given up hope. “Come on.”

Branden stops at the front desk and throws down what they owe, plus extra for the damages. Bert is jittery and pissed as they walk to Jepha’s hotel.

“Just wait here and don’t get in trouble, okay?” he tells Bert when they reach the entrance.

“Okay. Hurry.”

His hand trembles as he knocks on Jeph’s door.

“Hey,” Jeph says, surprised but not betraying anything else.

“Quinn got arrested,” he blurts out. “I – fuck. I need.”

“You need bail,” Jeph nods, completely unreadable.

Branden steps inside, closing the door. “I’m sorry.”

Jeph shakes his head and starts to turn away. “Not a problem, let me just –“

He puts his hand on Jeph’s forearm, stopping him. “Jeph – yes.”

Jeph’s eyes flicker with hope, and then go hard again. “Yes what, Branden?”

“Yes, I want to go with you.”

“Because you think I won’t help you if you don’t?”

“Because I care about you, too.”

Jeph studies his face for a long time, before pulling him in for a crushing hug. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Branden agrees, pressing a kiss into Jeph’s neck.

They meet Bert downstairs, who is bouncing on his heals like a jackrabbit. “What the fuck, man?”

“We’re gonna get him.”

At the jail, Jeph tells Branden and Bert to wait in the car. Half an hour later, he comes out with Quinn, who looks tired and worn. He slides into the backseat and is immediately pulled into Bert’s arms.

“Oh god, I was so fucking scared.”

“Bert,” he breathes, barely audible, yet the one word says everything. Branden watches them from the rearview for a few seconds.

“I left you. I fuckin’ *left you*.”

“You had to.”

“What happened?” He asks Jeph, as the wet sounds of kissing fill the car.

“They got him for loitering, wanted to try and prove the prostitute angle. I told them I was his manager, and they had no evidence and because they mistreated him, I could sue for unlawful misconduct.”

“Did they hurt you?” He hears Bert ask softly.

“Not really, just. God, I missed you.”

Jeph seems to get distracted and Branden grins at him. “Yeah, they’re fuckin’ sappy. You get used to it, though.”

“Fuck you,” he hears Bert mutter, but it’s muffled and if he looked, he’d probably see their mouths fused together.

“Anyway, I paid the bail and that’s that.”

They drive to the hotel and Branden manages to get the attention of his friends long enough to suggest Jeph’s offer.

“Oh my god, are you serious?! Fuck yeah, man!” Bert exclaims, his bounce shaking the whole car.

“That’d be amazing,” Quinn says softly.

“Alright, then,” Branden says, and it’s like a million pounds is lifted off his stomach.

They reach the hotel and get Bert and Quinn a room for the evening. They’ll leave tomorrow after meeting with their new bassist, whom Jeph says they’ll like.

Then it’s just the two of them again, the setting familiar, yet the circumstances completely new.

“So, you’re my manager now or something?”

“Pretty much.”

Branden steps closer to him. “So do I pay *you* now?”

Jeph runs his hand up Branden’s chest. “Let’s not talk about money, alright?”

Branden pauses. “It never felt like you paid me.”

Jeph kisses him long and slow.

“So we’re really doing this?” Branden asks as he breaks away.

“Yeah, just gotta get you guys a band name,” he says in between kisses against Branden’s jaw.

Branden tightens his hold and arches forward. “I meant you and me.”

Jeph straightens and looks at him. “Yeah, we are,” he says softly.

Branden smiles, letting it reach his eyes for the first time since he was a child. “Cool,” he says, and leans in for another kiss.

[end]


End file.
